


Little Wingbeats

by ishouldwritethatdown



Series: Useless Rinch Trash [5]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mornings can be rough. Hectic, coffee-laden, grogginess and fatigue. Not this morning. This is one of those rare mornings where everything is exactly right and comfortable and the only bad thing about it is that it has to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Wingbeats

John had really missed the warm, sleepy morning feeling. It was odd to miss something you weren’t really conscious of, and he found that until he experienced it again he hadn’t been totally aware he had missed it. But the world seemed all sunny and soft when he was in this state of mind, and he dozed like that for as long as he could. He could feel the sunlight on his eyelids, the bedsheets wrapped around him, the expanding and collapsing of his chest as he breathed…

It felt like the world was breaking him in softly to the day. After nothing but alarm clocks and cold sweats for wake up calls for years, it was an exceedingly pleasant change. His hazy swell of happiness only grew when he heard uneven footsteps close by, rhythmic and comforting.

“Good morning, Harold,” he greeted, drowsiness still weighting his eyelids down.

“Good morning, John,” Harold replied, the smile even more present in his voice than on his face.

John had to blink a few times for his eyes to focus up, but he saw Harold standing beside the bed, fully dressed but for his jacket. Still sluggish from sleep, he asked, “You leaving?” The disappointment was more present in his voice than he had meant it to be.

“I’m just going for a walk,” Harold smiled, picking up his watch from the bedside table and fastening it.

“Past a payphone?” John added good-humouredly.

Finch smiled again. That was a yes.

John propped himself up with his arm and rested his chin on his hand. “Can it wait?” It was selfish, maybe; to want to stay in this moment and ignore the numbers and the danger and the outside world. It didn’t make John want it any less.

Harold sat on the bed. He responded with a softness in his voice, “I suppose I could delay my trip just a little.” His blue eyes were impossible not to adore, and remained unobscured by the reflections on his glasses. The entire atmosphere around him was relaxed and gentle. The guarded, private Finch was almost inconceivable in this moment.

John, on the other hand, had felt the warmth of the blankets spread up to his face as he blushed. Breathing became something to concentrate on and he could feel his heart flutter like it was a caged butterfly. He almost felt stupid for feeling this way, as if it were something immature that he should be over. Almost.

They seemed to naturally draw closer to one another, and when their lips touched, it was bliss of the highest degree, innocent and freeing. The buzzing in John’s chest persisted after they parted, creating a smile that would’ve been impossible to suppress even if he wanted to. He lightly traced Harold’s hand with his own fingers. Every knuckle and vein felt perfect and right.

Their breathing and the faint ticking of a clock was the only noise that filled the room. It was a comfortable kind of silence that neither of them particularly wanted to break. Unfortunately, mind won out over heart as Harold lifted John’s hand to kiss it before rising from the bed.

John watched as Harold slipped on his jacket, admiring every detail with the most genuine sincerity. Harold caught him looking and he blushed again, afraid he was being ridiculous.

Harold only smiled and walked back over to the bedside, leaning down to kiss John on the forehead, cupping his stubbled jaw in his hand as he did so. “See you at the Subway,” he said softly.

“See you at the Subway,” John echoed, brushing Harold’s hand with his own briefly and looking again into his eyes.

When Harold left the room, he began stirring out of bed as well. There was still a lightness in his chest, fueled by the sunlight streaming through the window and the man he loved next door. John smiled to himself, savouring the remaining few flutters of the butterfly’s wings before he braved the day ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> People expressed an interest in more fluffy Rinch garbage so I'm more than happy to deliver. Let me know what you think!


End file.
